


like a bullet in a gun.

by librastrai



Series: team cmbr. [1]
Category: RWBY, The 100 (TV)
Genre: CMBR AU, Drabble, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, but i love her, clarke is a little messed up like always, introspective, welcome to my CMBR au lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24454546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/librastrai/pseuds/librastrai
Summary: Team CMBR, what a silly way to get chamber, Atlas’ new prodigies. The daughter of the top engineer and the philanthropist doctor, the youngest mech engineer in 52 years, son of the former council member and ... Bellamy. By all rights he was a nobody in the eyes of Atlas, Mantle born and raised. If some of the old thinkers had gotten their way, he would’ve stayed in the gutter “where he belonged.” The thought of it made her stomach twist uncomfortably, sharp exhale of breath fogging up a patch of the window.Bellamy had been the best of them. Him and Raven. Clarke? She was toxic, everything from the way she’d earned the unofficial title that seemed to stick to her like ichor to her semblance. The Kiss of Death. Artistic rendition, such a pretty way to say she was a killer.All that left was Murphy.*Clarke reflects on her life.
Series: team cmbr. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089953
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	like a bullet in a gun.

**Author's Note:**

> after rewatching a billion clarke vids & the latest episode of s7, i decided to finally write something for this au i've had cooking up for a couple of months. this'll never be a fully fledged fic bc i Do Not have the determination to keep that up, but having a place to throw my drabbles or introspectives & flesh out the au is great. ♥
> 
> clarke is just,,, rly fucking sad & angry okay. someone give her a hug.

Atlas always looked so beautiful.

A collection of tall spires, marble stone and stainless steel glistening in the arctic sun, coexisting like it was a feat of nature itself and not man. Clarke could never find in herself the strength to turn away on mornings like this. To dare deny herself the littlest pleasure she took.

She remembers the mornings like this with her father. Wide, icy blues gazing from the large windows of their complex to marvel over the city. _Nothing but the best for the top engineer_ , her mother had mused with a brief kiss to his cheek before leaving for her own work. Dealing with the underprivileged in Mantle, those that couldn’t afford medical care, or were too sick to physically go and get it. If left to her own devices, Clarke would have gazed upon that sparkling sunrise until her head ached, white spots blurring in her vision even when she closed her eyes.

Thankfully her father was a bit more sensible than she had been.

 _That didn’t stop him from dying_ , Clarke caught herself thinking with an astounding bitterness. A blink of icy blues and the city disappears for a moment, heart aching. Hadn’t she promised to do better? Hadn’t these ... these _thoughts_ cost her enough?

Mind wandered to her team, _ex team_ , their faces flashing in mind’s eye for the briefest moment and a new wave of pure ache followed. Team CMBR, what a silly way to get _chamber_ , Atlas’ new prodigies. The daughter of the top engineer and the philanthropist doctor, the youngest mech engineer in 52 years, son of the former council member and ... Bellamy. By all rights he was a nobody in the eyes of Atlas, Mantle born and raised. If some of the old thinkers had gotten their way, he would’ve stayed in the gutter “where he belonged.” The thought of it made her stomach twist uncomfortably, sharp exhale of breath fogging up a patch of the window.

Bellamy had been the best of them. Him and Raven. Clarke? She was toxic, everything from the way she’d earned the unofficial title that seemed to stick to her like ichor to her semblance. The Kiss of Death. Artistic rendition, such a pretty way to say she was a _killer._

All that left was Murphy.

Fingernails bit crescent moons into the soft flesh of her palms at the nonverbal mention of his name. If she was toxic, Murphy was a _poison_ , a sure death. He was just as guilty for the destruction of their team as she, and if she were ever to see him again ...

Well, it would be a death she wouldn’t regret.

Eyes closed for a moment; slow, steady breath exhaled. _You’re hurting, Clarke._ That’s what the psychiatrist had said on the evaluation, the day before she graduated to specialist. Joined the rank of Atlas’ best and brightest, a demure smile on her face but her heart beating a million miles an hour. This was what she was born to do. What she wanted, had wanted all her life. Right? _You’re hurting and that rage has to go somewhere. You can’t hold it in forever._

What did she know? As far as Clarke was concerned, she’d recovered. Father killed by an unknown assailant and Atlas doing nothing but wishing her and her mother all the best? _Fine._ Losing her team because one of her team mates turned on them and shot Raven? _Didn’t affect her anymore._

Being a specialist?

_All she’d ever wanted._

“Clarke.”

The low toned voice filled the room and Clarke froze, angry with herself for a fleeting moment that she hadn’t noticed the door opening. Forcing it down, _forcing it all down like always_ , a curt nod was given as the blonde turned to see familiar white hair, similar icy blues. Winter Schnee. She’d always respected the specialist, looked up to her. Now they were on the same level and Clarke felt every word and action of hers mired by an impostor syndrome. _You don’t belong here. Killers don’t protect Atlas, and that’s what you are. Their blood will be on your hands._

The muscles of her jaw cinched tight, but gaze didn’t break as Winter’s brows furrowed, barely noticeable but Clarke saw it. She saw everything.

“Winter. What is it?”

Outstanding way to talk to an older specialist. If it bothered the Schnee woman, she didn’t show it. In fact, she didn’t show anything but almost discomfort, as if to be the bearer of bad news. The thought made Clarke’s stomach twist violently, especially when the look only seemed to worsen. At first, Clarke’s mind rushed to her mother, vulnerable in Mantle. Then the wall. Then another attack, like the one in Beacon.

“We apprehended John Murphy.”

_Oh._

A dark voice chuckled in the back of her mind, and once again, Clarke swallowed down her anger. Kept a facade of ice, all while an inferno raged inside of her. A tilt of her head and Winter’s eyes narrowed, Clarke feeling her skin prickle with heat. Right hand began to ache and in the back of her mind, she could tell nails had bit into the skin until it bled. Feel the familiar sticky wetness gather in the palm of her clenched fist.

“Good.”

It was good.

He would finally get what was coming to him. Like they all would.  
Like she would.


End file.
